Boku No Hero - Blog Posts

reason #3 | n. monoma

⇨ it was just a list. a dumb, petty, handwritten list of all the reasons class 1-a is the worst. but your name stood out, and now he can't stop talking to you... or thinking about you

december, again | d. kaminari

you wrote "december, again" about heartbreak. you didn't expect to meet someone who'd sing every word back like he'd lived it too.

the green room was quiet—dim and humming with low light, the scent of hot tea and stage dust clinging to the corners. you sat cross-legged on the worn velvet couch, cradling a chipped mug between your palms, listening to the soft static of the soundcheck being patched through the in-ear monitors coiled beside you.

your guitar sat in its stand nearby, already tuned, the strap worn from years of shows and nerves. you had done this so many times before—but tonight felt different.

tokyo was the biggest venue on the tour so far. a full room. a sold-out show. an unfamiliar city and a familiar ache in your chest. you'd played coffee shops, tiny festival tents, even the occasional college auditorium—but this was your first international stage, and the butterflies were relentless.

you glanced at your phone, already on do not disturb, but still lit up with a few unread messages. one was from your tour manager. one from your sister. and one, tucked between them, was a twitter notification.

@lightningmcme

im the guy in the front row screaming every word. respectfully

you smiled without meaning to. your thumb hovered over the screen for a second longer than necessary, rereading the tweet. it was stupidly charming—just like all his other tweets.

you remembered him. the blonde with the ridiculous username. he'd been tweeting about your music for years. always saying something half-sincere and half-stupid, like your lyrics had personally destroyed him in the grocery store or that he'd cry if you ever released a deluxe version.

and he always meant it. every word.

you weren't supposed to follow fans back—not often, anyway. but his account had popped up more times than you could count. sweet. supportive. never creepy. just... soft.

so when you followed him and sent a quick thank you, you hadn't expected the all-caps panic or the flustered spiral of gratitude. you definitely hadn't expected to still be messaging him days later. he was funny. kind. endearingly honest. it was easy.

and now he was here. somewhere in that crowd. front row, he'd said. you hadn't looked yet. didn't dare. not until the lights hit you.

you pressed your hand to your chest, just for a second, trying to calm the stupid flutter that rose there.

"two minutes," someone called from the hallway.

you stood slowly, adjusting your mic pack, and reached for your guitar. as you walked toward the wings, the sounds of the crowd drifted in—laughter, chatter, low excitement building into something tangible. the air buzzed.

the lights backstage flickered as the crew called final cues. you did one last breath check, settled your fingers on the strings, and exhaled.

showtime.

the stage lights washed over you in a warm gold as you stepped out, your guitar slung across your shoulder. a hush fell over the audience, the kind that always made your heart beat a little harder.

"hi," you said into the mic, breath catching on the tail end of a smile. "i'm... really honored to be here tonight. i've been writing songs in my bedroom since i was sixteen, and somehow you all made it feel like something real."

soft cheers rippled through the audience. somewhere near the front, someone whooped.

you scanned the barricade briefly, and there he was—blond hair tousled, jacket sleeves rolled up to his elbows, absolutely beaming. he looked like he hadn't blinked since you walked onstage. mouth already forming the lyrics before you even began.

denki.

you felt a grin pull at your lips.

"this first song..." you said, adjusting the strap on your shoulder. "it's called 'december, again'. it's about holding onto something long after it's let go of you.

the opening chord rang clear. you let yourself fall into it.

i bought your favorite drink out of habit left it in the fridge 'til it went bad wore your sweater out in public just to see if anyone would ask

you sang like you were remembering every ache in real time. the lights were low and soft, like candlelight, and you could hear the audience singing with you.

your name still fits wrong in my mouth but it's the only thing i don't spit out

the lights dimmed slightly, drawing the audience closer. you caught sight of denki mouthing the words, his hands clasped against the barricade like he didn't trust himself not to float away.

it's december, again and i swore i'd be fine but the lights look like your headlights and the cold feels like that night when you left without saying goodbye and i still stand by the door like i'm waiting for you to come back in it's december, again and i'm missing you like it just happened

the audience went silent as you strummed your guitar. it was a silence that proved they were listening. really listening.

friends ask how i'm doing i lie like it's my second language there's still boxes in my closet of the pieces i can't manage

a girl in the third row wiped her eyes. you caught her movement out of the corner of your eye and softened your voice.

i sleep better with the TV on but you still show up when the volume's gone

it's december again and i swore i'd be fine but the lights look like your headlights and the cold feels like that night when you left without saying goodbye and i still stand by the door like i'm waiting for you to come back in it's december, again and i'm missing you like it just happened do you think of me at all? when it starts to snow when someone plays our song too slow i burned all the letters but not the words i still remember what i never heard

you opened your eyes again and let them rest on him. denki. he hadn't moved. his expression was soft, reverent, like he'd never seen anything more important than you at that moment.

it's december, again and the silence is loud you're still gone but i'm not proud of the way i keep breaking like it's some kind of vow and i still stand by the door like i don't know how this ends it's december, again and i'm missing you like it just happened

the last chord faded into a hush.

a beat of silence.

then the applause began—gentle, reverent. a swell of warmth.

you scanned the crowd.

denki was still at the barricade.

still glowing.

not in a flashy, spotlight kind of way—but in the way someone looks when they've found something they didn't know they needed.

you played the rest of your set like you were singing just for him.

⋆˙⟡

when you stepped offstage, your hands were still buzzing. you passed your guitar to one of the techs, accepted a bottle of water with shaking fingers, and headed straight for the security staff near the wing.

"hey," you said. "can i ask a favor?"

one of them looked up. "depends. how weird is it?" you smiled. "sweet blond boy. front row. looks like he sings along to everything even when he's about to cry. think you can bring him back here?"

the guy laughed. "yeah, i know exactly who you mean."

⋆˙⟡

denki didn't know how to move.

people were leaving. voices echoing. but he just stood there, staring at the empty stage like it still had something to give him.

he was pretty sure he hadn't blinked since you looked at him. actually looked at him. he had replayed it ten times in his head already. the exact second your gaze found his and you smiled.

his knees were weak.

and then a security guard was walking toward him.

"hey," the guy said. "you're the blond one, right? artist wants to see you backstage."

denki had exactly three brain cells functioning, and all of them screamed.

he followed the guard without speaking. his legs felt fake. his mouth was dry. this had to be a dream. it had to be.

backstage smelled like lights and sweat and something warm—something safe.

he tried not to trip over a cable as the door opened.

⋆˙⟡

you were curled up in a hoodie over your stage outfit, sat in a chair, when the door opened.

there he was.

golden and breathless and so clearly overwhelmed you almost stood up just to steady him.

"hi," you said, heart hammering. "denki, right?"

he nodded fast. too fast. "hi—yeah. yes. oh my god."

you laughed. "it's okay. you made it."

he blinked. "did i black out?"

"maybe a little."

you motioned for him to sit. he did. slowly. like it might be a trap.

"i just wanted to thank you," you said. "like i said, i've seen your tweets. your support. it's... it's meant more than you know."

denki looked like he might combust.

"i'm the one who's grateful," he said. "you wrote the soundtrack to my favorite breakdowns."

you grinned. "best compliment i've ever received."

there was a pause. something soft.

he glanced around, cheeks flushed. "this is... insane. you're, like, the reason i made it through last winter. that song? 'december, again'? i think i listened to it every day for two months. not even because i was heartbroken, i just—i don't know. it made me feel like i wasn't broken for feeling too much."

you blinked. slowly. carefully.

then denki tilted his head and said, "can i ask you something kind of personal?"

"sure," you said. "shoot."

"what got you into music?"

you smiled, soft and a little faraway. "i guess... i always felt a little too much. too loud in my head. writing was the only way i could let it out without exploding. and then one day, i put it to chords, and it stuck. it felt right. like i was finally telling the truth."

denki was quiet for a moment, like he didn't want to break the silence. then he said, "well, i'm really glad you did."

you looked at him, his wide eyes and messy hair and nervous energy. and then, without really thinking about it, you asked, "are you doing anything right now?"

he blinked. "me?"

you laughed. "yeah, you."

denki shook his head. "no, i... i mean, i was probably just gonna cry in a ramen shop alone about this whole night, so—"

"perfect," you cut in. "come cry in a ramen shop with me instead."

he stared. "wait. you're serious?"

"dead serious," you said. "you comin'?"

he nodded vigorously. "yes, of course."

you stood, grabbing your jacket. "cool. i know a good noodle spot. let's go, sweet blond boy from barricade."

and denki followed you out into the cold tokyo night, warm from something that had nothing to do with the stage lights.

and everything to do with you.

player two | t. shigaraki

⇨ you beat him in a match. he found your number. unfortunately for you, he’s chatty.

not a date, btw | e. kirishima

in which you and kirishima spend weeks fake-denying your way through very real feelings.

HIII I love ur smaus and the way you write the characters are just ,,,,,jdjdjdjjs anwyas,, could u mayhaps pls do a Bakugou x romantically oblivious reader?? I just think the dynamic would be hilarious LOLL !! ty and hope u have a great day/night!! :)) <33

wait, are you flirting? | k. bakugo

bakugo is very obviously into you. you think he's just a strangely intense friend.

hai!!! i love ur writing sm

can u write a hitoshi shinso x reader fic and they have a child or smth cuz i’m in LOVEEE with your dabi smau fic😣💞

it’s okay if not, ur writing is so good 💗💗💗

fatherhood looks good | h. shinso

shinso didn't plan on having a kid, but now there's a tiny version of him running around the house and yelling about the moon.

(fic/drabble under the cut!)

there's a crash from the living room, followed by the unmistakable sound of bare feet slapping frantically against hardwood. you don't even look up from your phone.

"he's running," you call.

shinso sighs from the kitchen. "is it a happy run or a 'he's about to break something' run?"

you pause, listening. a door slams. a tiny voice wails, "why did they turn off the moon?!"

"...meltdown," you say casually. "moon's out. emotionally spiraling."

shinso leans against the doorframe with a tired sort of grace, stirring a mug of hot chocolate like this is completely normal. which, unfortunately, it is.

"i told you not to say the moon was a night light," he says.

you shrug. "he was scared of the dark. i panicked. i gave it personality."

"well," shinso mutters, setting the mug down with a small clink, "now it's personal."

you both wander toward the noise—your son has collapsed dramatically on the floor by the window, clutching his stuffed cat, face pressed to the glass.

"they turned it off," he sniffles without turning around. "the moon's gone. my night light's broken forever."

shinso sits down beside him cross-legged, like he's done this a thousand times. because he has. you watch as your husband gently tilts his head to try and meet his son's eyes.

"it's just cloudy, kid," shinso says quietly. "the moon's still there. can't always see it, but it doesn't go away."

your son frowns. "are you sure?"

"yeah," shinso says, voice lower now. "same way i can't always see you when i'm at work, but i still know you're being a tiny menace at home."

"i'm not a menace," he protests immediately.

shinso raises an eyebrow. "you bit your mom over cookies."

your son pauses.

"...she deserved it."

"absolutely not," you say from the hallway, and both of them flinch in sync.

there's a beat of silence before your son lets out a very long, dramatic sigh. "okay," he whispers, still watching the sky. "but tell the moon to stop hiding. i don't like when it goes away."

shinso leans back on his hands, glancing toward you. his expression softens a little—less tired, more tired and in love.

"i get it," he murmurs. "i don't like when things go away, either."

you tilt your head. he doesn't look at you, but he doesn't need to. that's just how he is—quiet affection, full volume in everything except words.

later, when your son's asleep, curled between the two of you with his limbs spread out like he fought ghosts in his dreams, shinso kisses your shoulder and says:

"you made him weird."

you smile. "you made him soft."

shinso brushes a hand through your son's hair, voice barely audible.

"yeah," he says. "we did good."

parental guidance | s. aizawa

being aizawa's teenage daughter means sharing the house with a sleep-deprived cryptid and 3 cats.

Literally eating up every smau you pump out 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 could I rq an Iida one? One where he has a hung crush on his bestie of YEARSSS but they're dating a guy he literally cannot stand?

not mine, still yours | t. iida

tenya knew being your best friend meant loving you from the sidelines, even while you gave your heart to the wrong person.

do you think you could do some Dabi smau where he has a kid with reader and all the fluffy things?

I’m in pain after the last one </3

if you’re not comfortable do not feel pressured to do it! <33333

-🐦‍⬛

domesticated | t. todoroki

parenthood was not in the plan, but now there's a glitter drawing of you and touya on the fridge.

Hihi!!! I hope you’re having a good day ! I was wondering if you could please do friends to lovers texts with Bakugou and a weird, energetic reader? i really hope im doing this the right way lol and if im not im really sorry!! TvT

bite first | k. bakugo

you're the weirdest part of his routine, and lately, his favorite.

user error | k. takami

⇨ as the ceo of a tech company for pro heroes, you’re used to dealing with malfunctions—just not one with wings and a flirting problem

burnt edges, unread messages | t. todoroki

⇨ not dating. not nothing. something in between. something you never got to name before it was gone.

𝐑 𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄? — 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐒

𖤐 synopsis: touya finds himself desperately drawn to his equally dangerous colleague during an elegant gala, revealing vulnerability beneath his scarred exterior as he struggles with newfound emotions while they maintain control of their complicated dynamic.

𖤐 trigger warnings: mentions of violence, implications of criminal activity, power dynamics, manipulation, and descriptions of physical scarring.

𖤐 pairing: touya (dabi) todoroki x villain! gn! reader

𖤐 side note: this was my first actual fic i made..I just decided to post it now cause I’m obsessed with the song again...

the grand hall of the underground villain society's annual gala shimmered with danger and decadence. crystal chandeliers cast shadows across the marble floors where villains of all calibers mingled, their formal attire a stark contrast to the chaos they usually wrought.

you adjusted your gloves, running a finger along the intricate design that concealed the weapon beneath. as a newer but rapidly rising member of the paranormal liberation front, you'd earned your invitation through a string of perfectly executed missions that had left authorities baffled and the villain world impressed.

"enjoying the view?" a low, raspy voice asked from behind.

you didn't need to turn to recognize who it belonged to. the faint scent of ash and that distinctive voice gave him away instantly. dabi. the plf's flame villain with a penchant for destruction and a mysterious past that nobody dared question.

"i'm observing," you replied coolly, taking a sip of champagne. "there's a difference."

you finally turned to face him, allowing yourself a moment to appreciate how the formal black suit complemented his stapled skin and piercing turquoise eyes. unlike his usual casual attire, tonight he'd made an effort. the jacket hugged his lean frame, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing glimpses of his scarred chest.

"you clean up surprisingly well," you remarked with a half-smile.

"don't sound so shocked." his eyes never left yours as he moved closer. "though i could say the same about you. almost didn't recognize you without blood on your clothes."

you laughed softly, the sound drawing attention from nearby villains who quickly averted their gaze when dabi shot them a warning look.

"dance with me," he said suddenly, not quite a question but not entirely a command either.

you raised an eyebrow. "i didn't take you for a dancer, dabi."

"there are many things you don't know about me." he extended his hand, his eyes betraying a vulnerability that his smirk tried to mask. "yet."

the string quartet in the corner began playing something slow and haunting as you placed your hand in his. his skin was unnaturally warm—a side effect of his quirk—as he led you to the dance floor.

"i've been watching you," he confessed as his hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer than necessary. "since that mission in hosu city. the way you took down those pro heroes without hesitation... it was beautiful."

"careful," you warned playfully. "people might think you're developing feelings."

his grip tightened slightly. "would that be so terrible?"

you studied his face, noting the intensity behind his casual expression. dabi was known for his indifference, his detachment. yet here he was, holding you like you might disappear if he let go.

"you know how this works," you reminded him. "people like us don't do attachments."

the music swelled as he spun you effortlessly, bringing you back against his chest with practiced precision.

"tell me something," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "are you just using me to pass the time? or is there more?"

you pulled back slightly to look at him. "that's a dangerous question."

"i'm a dangerous man."

around you, other villain couples danced, their faces masks of calculated charm and hidden agendas. everyone was playing a role tonight. everyone except dabi, whose eyes burned with something raw and unfiltered.

"every time you walk away," he continued, his voice dropping lower, "i find myself wondering if you'll come back. it's maddening."

"dabi—"

"i go crazy," he interrupted, "because being anywhere but with you isn't where i want to be. do you understand what that's like? to have someone crawl under your skin that deep?"

the music faded into the background as you studied him. this wasn't the dabi that the league knew—the apathetic, sardonic villain who cared only for his mysterious agenda. this was someone else entirely.

"you're acting like i own you," you said carefully.

his laugh was bitter and short. "maybe you do. isn't that what this is? you pull the strings, and i follow. like a damn puppet."

the song ended, but neither of you moved to separate. around you, villains exchanged partners, clinked champagne glasses, and plotted their next atrocities. but in your small bubble on the dance floor, something electric and dangerous was building.

"let's get some air," you suggested, acutely aware of how his fingers were now intertwined with yours.

he followed you through the grand ballroom, past clusters of villains deep in conversation, and out onto a deserted balcony overlooking the city lights below. the night air was cool against your skin, a welcome relief from the heat of the ballroom—and from dabi's proximity.

"better?" you asked, leaning against the stone railing.

instead of answering, he moved behind you, his hands gripping the railing on either side of you, effectively trapping you between his body and the stone.

"no," he said simply. "not better at all."

you turned to face him, your back now against the railing. "what is it you want from me, dabi? we've had our fun, haven't we? the missions, the nights afterward..."

"is that all this is to you? fun?" his eyes narrowed, blue flames briefly flickering at his fingertips before he controlled them. "because for me, it's become something else entirely."

"careful," you warned again. "shigaraki wouldn't approve of... complications within the ranks."

"i don't give a damn what shigaraki thinks." dabi leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. "i only care about one thing right now."

"and what's that?"

"whether i'm yours," he said, his voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the party inside. "because you sure as hell are mine."

there it was—the raw desperation beneath his usual controlled facade. you'd seen glimpses of it before: in the way his eyes followed you during meetings, how his hand lingered on yours when passing equipment, the unnecessary risks he took to protect you during missions.

"this isn't you," you said softly. "the dabi i know doesn't beg."

something dangerous flashed in his eyes. "maybe you don't know me as well as you think."

his lips crashed against yours then, hot and demanding. it wasn't your first kiss—far from it—but there was something different about this one. something desperate and consuming that made your head spin.

when you finally broke apart, his breathing was ragged. "tell me you feel it too."

you reached up, tracing one of the staples that held his scarred skin together. "i've never seen you like this before."

"answer the question." his voice was strained. "am i yours? are you mine? i need to know i'm not just losing my mind here."

the vulnerability in his question struck you. for all his power, all his danger, in this moment, dabi was laying himself bare—something neither of you were accustomed to doing.

"we're villains," you reminded him. "we take what we want."

"and what do you want?" he searched your eyes for an answer.

you considered your options carefully. attachment in your world was a liability, a weakness that could be exploited. but there was something intoxicating about having one of the plf's most feared villains looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

"maybe i want you," you admitted finally. "but on my terms."

a slow smile spread across his face, transforming his features into something almost beautiful in its dangerous intensity. "i can live with that."

inside, the party continued—villains plotting, forming alliances, and breaking them just as quickly. but on the balcony, something new was taking shape between you and dabi—something that burned hotter than his blue flames and cut deeper than any weapon.

"you should know," he said, his fingers tracing a path down your arm, "i'm not good at sharing. what's mine is mine."

"i don't recall agreeing to be yours exclusively," you challenged, enjoying the flash of jealousy that crossed his face.

"you will," he promised, his confidence returning though the desperate need still lingered in his eyes. "i can be very persuasive."

the sound of the balcony door opening interrupted your exchange. toga's cheerful voice called out, "there you are! shigaraki's about to make an announcement. something big!"

dabi didn't take his eyes off you as he replied, "we'll be there in a minute."

when the door closed again, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "this conversation isn't over."

"i wouldn't expect it to be," you replied, straightening his tie with deliberate slowness. "but don't forget who's in control here."

his answering smile was equal parts submission and challenge. "wouldn't dream of it."

as you both rejoined the gathering inside, dabi's hand possessively at the small of your back, you knew that things had shifted irrevocably between you. in a world where power was currency and weakness meant death, you'd somehow gained the most dangerous kind of leverage—complete devotion from a man who burned everything he touched.

and despite everything you knew about the dangers of attachment in your line of work, you couldn't deny the thrill that came with it.

after all, what was villainy without a little risk?

taglist: [open]

mutuals: @https-bakugo @haikyuubby @va-3 @luvseraphh @lotusstarr @tulippanes @n3r0-5352 @gh0st-g1rll @majoryeager104

© property of kenzdolls

𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐂𝐎 𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒:

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐠𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐱 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐞𝐬

MEETING OCHACO URARAKA:

ochaco first meets you in a combat training session where you accidentally save her from a training bot with your quirk, leaving her flustered and impressed. 

she instantly feels a spark of admiration and determination to get to know you better, often cheering you on during training. 

her clumsy nature shines through when she accidentally bumps into you while trying to approach you, turning the encounter into an adorable moment. 

you notice how she’s constantly floating a little bit off the ground when she gets nervous, and it becomes a cute signature move of hers around you. 

during group projects, she finds excuses to pair up with you, her heart racing each time your hands brush against each other. 

she often daydreams about the two of you being heroes together, her imagination running wild as she envisions your dynamic duo taking down villains. 

in her head, she plans the perfect way to ask you out but always ends up tripping over her words when she gets the chance.

OCHACO CRUSHING ON YOU:

ochaco’s cheeks flush a bright pink whenever you smile at her, and she has to look away to hide her embarrassment. 

she starts to incorporate little things she learns about you into her daily life, whether it's trying your favorite snacks or practicing your favorite fighting moves. 

whenever you achieve something great, she can’t help but shout your name excitedly, her voice echoing through the training hall. 

her friends notice her crush and tease her about it, prompting her to get flustered and deny it while secretly loving the attention. 

ochaco has a habit of getting lost in thought about you, often daydreaming during classes, much to the confusion of her teachers. 

she often imagines cute scenarios, like going to the festival together, and finds herself daydreaming about holding your hand while floating through the air. 

she feels a mix of determination and nerves when she’s around you, constantly trying to balance her air-headedness with her desire to impress you.

DATING OCHACO URARAKA:

when you start dating, ochaco is over the moon, her joy making her a bit more air-headed than usual, often forgetting her own training sessions. 

she loves surprising you with homemade lunches, using her quirk to make the food float in front of you, just to see your reaction. 

the two of you develop a tradition of floating together at night, sharing stories and dreams while drifting above the rooftops of UA. 

ochaco often gets a little shy when it comes to public displays of affection, preferring sweet gestures like holding hands or small kisses. 

she loves using her quirk to make you float, insisting that it’s the most fun way to travel, and you can’t help but laugh at her excitement. 

she adores going on missions with you, believing every moment spent fighting alongside you only strengthens your bond. 

when she gets flustered during a date, she tends to ramble about random things, making you laugh and endearingly calling her “adorably awkward.” 

her sweet and supportive nature shines through when you’re stressed, as she’s always there with a comforting hug and words of encouragement, reminding you that you can achieve anything together.

© 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐙𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 —

Been wanting to draw Uraraka for a while, and also a Hp/bnha drawing, so drew her as a student!

To celebrate hallowen! Wanted to post this on the day, but finished a lot earlier

I love monoma, so wanted to draw him. He is pretty much in patrol looking for something, also I have no ideia how to draw buildings so its really bad

Wanted to draw a soft todoroki with pokemons, and this happened. This was my first time drawing pokemons, so they are kind of weird

Did a drawing of my new oc Hinata with my friend oc Suzuki

alvesdebritorafaela

Did another Bnha oc. Her name is Hinata, and the outfit she's wearing is a prototype for her hero outfit, but not oficial.

Her quirk is 3D printer. She can transform any drawing she touches into a 3D, real form.

*If the paper the drawing is on is destroyed or erased, the item vanishes.

*She can transform and them transform back.

*The bag she keeps is of papers containing multiple itens, like a sword, shield, ladder, If she needs it.

*The quirk can create living things, but they would still vanish if the paper is destroyed

*There are more things about her quirk, I will say later on

She's more of a suporter than a figher, but she's learning how to fight using a sword

She keeps pencils and papers with her, in case she needs to print something new at the moment

She trains her art skill so the printing turns out okay

Her pupils are of diferent colors that change

She's still a prototype, so I dont have a backstory

Did a bisexual flag for pride month with Deku